Dakota nodded and sat down on the sofa.
Curtis brought over the diced mango and the box of watermelon he had specially prepared.
The atmosphere between mother and daughter hadn't warmed up yet.
Dakota pushed the fruit platter toward Greta, "Mom, please have some fruit."
Greta looked down at the fruit platter.
The displeasure she had been harboring now fully showed, "Kota."
Greta's tone was noticeably serious.
Almost instinctively, Dakota straightened her back, the usually haughty young miss who would act tough in front of Curtis now seemed like a child ready to be scolded.
"Tell me the truth, dear."
Greta turned to Dakota, her gaze sharp with curiosity. "So, since you married Curtis, has everything been okay? He treating you alright?"
Dakota thought Greta was going to scold her about something.
But she didn't expect the question to be this.
Regardless, she was stunned, "We're doing great, Mom. Why would you think that?"
While perhaps she should admit that she and Curtis weren't exactly a loving couple, there was no denying that Curtis treated her well, something Dakota couldn't deny.
"I could tell from the moment you walked in that you and Curtis are just putting on a show."
Greta never liked beating around the bush, "Though he seems nice to you on the surface, he doesn't know your preferences at all. The dinner and the fruit choices hit all your dislikes. How come? If you two were truly harmonious, wouldn't he know that you hate burgers, don't like mangoes, and always wait for your grandma and me to remove the center of the watermelon before you eat?"
Dakota stared at Greta in a daze.
She thought it was something Curtis did that displeased her or that her state revealed that she didn't love him.
But she didn't expect this from Greta.
Dakota remained silent, unsure how to explain to Greta—
She always said she didn't like having burgers and fries on holidays, but the real reason was that she envied families who had elaborate Thanksgiving feasts. She wasn't fond of how her family would just pick up some takeout from the grocery store to make things easier, settling for something quick and convenient every year.
She said she didn't like mangoes because her grandma was allergic to them, insisting that Greta and her grandma remove the center of the watermelon before eating was her way of leaving the sweetest part for them.
But she actually liked burgers.
While studying abroad, she would often go to the supermarket to buy the sweetest and biggest mangoes.
At gatherings with Noe and others, if someone happened to buy a watermelon, she'd want to grab the sweetest center piece.
But Greta never thought about these things.
If this were a business matter, she might think deeper, but facing her own daughter, she lost all capacity for thought.
It was just indifference.
Dakota gently lowered her eyelashes, thinking this.
Still, she said, "Curtis really treats me well, it's a misunderstanding, Mom."
Greta didn't think there was any misunderstanding.
She always trusted her judgment, "After dinner, I will talk to Curtis. Kota, Mom feels that she has been too busy with work to take care of you over the years. Because I've seen Curtis grow up and know he's a good boy with a good character and is considerate, I feel reassured handing you over to him, which is why I arranged your marriage. But if he truly doesn't treat you well and makes you unhappy—"
"Mom!" Dakota got a little angry.
She really disliked how Greta always used her own judgments to criticize others and wouldn't listen to any advice.
Dakota pursed her lips, "My marriage with Curtis was a business arrangement made by you personally. In a marriage without feelings, you have no right to demand anything from him."
"Furthermore—"
"I love burgers, mangoes, and the center of watermelons. It's you who doesn't understand me, not him."
"He treats me well."
Dakota looked steadily at Greta, "Since you haven't taken care of me much in the past, I hope you won't interfere in my affairs with him anymore."
This was the first time Greta had been reprimanded by her own daughter.
She was completely stunned, suddenly feeling that her daughter was a stranger, and didn't know what to say for a moment.
Just then, Curtis walked over.
He sensed something was off between mother and daughter, leaning close to Dakota, "What's wrong?"
He whispered into her ear.
His eyebrows furrowed lightly.
The anger beneath his eyes was barely contained, making him seem a bit displeased.
But Dakota just shook her head, looking up at Curtis, "Is the food ready? Can we eat?"
"Yeah," Curtis replied softly.
He lifted his eyes to glance at Greta, sensing that their conversation had indeed been unpleasant.
But he resisted asking.
Dakota and Greta went to the dining room, and throughout the meal, neither spoke much to each other. Curtis occasionally tried to chat politely with Greta, but she didn't seem willing to engage.
Even Dakota, who had been happy talking about eating burgers before work, barely ate two bites at the table.
Curtis kept serving her several mouthfuls of food.
They would often go out for burgers together, knowing each other's favorite foods.
But Dakota had no appetite.
She murmured, "Stop serving me, I don't want to eat."
But to Greta, this further indicated that Dakota didn't like burgers and that Curtis didn't care, not noticing her preferences and still serving her food.
"I'm done eating."
Greta suddenly put down her fork.
Dakota and Curtis both raised their eyes to look at her, seeing her calm gaze and the shrewdness of a seasoned leader, "Curtis."
Curtis also put down his chopsticks.
He met Greta's gaze, hearing her say, "Are you free now? I'd like to speak with you privately."
Dakota guessed what Greta wanted to say.
But she knew it was just Greta's one-sided misunderstanding and self-righteousness.
She didn't want Greta to talk to Curtis, so she also put down her fork and raised her voice, "Mom! You—"
"I-I'm fine—" Curtis held her wrist.
The warmth from his palm transmitted to Dakota's skin, giving her an inexplicably strong sense of comfort.
His voice slightly deepened, "I'll talk with mom."
Dakota actually didn't want Curtis to go, considering she could guess how unpleasant Greta's words would be.
But Curtis looked at her with determination, seeming unwilling to avoid this under Dakota's protection and stopped her, then stood up with his palm covering the front of his clothes.
"Mom, this way," he gestured a direction.
Greta stood up and followed Curtis out. Passing through the living room, she picked up her bag and took the coat hanging on the rack near the entrance, seemingly preparing to leave after their talk, without any intention of staying longer to spend more time with her daughter.
The wind at the tail end of summer was very quiet.
The cicadas' chirping gradually weakened, and outside the villa in the garden, the atmosphere between Curtis and Greta standing face-to-face became even more tranquil.
